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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127829">About You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchytissues/pseuds/anarchytissues'>anarchytissues</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tetsuwan Atom | Astro Boy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Prison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:54:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127829</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchytissues/pseuds/anarchytissues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rock tries to deal with his life after the Phoenix Island incident.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>an attempt at trying to flesh out rock in the 2003 anime and act as a prequel to my eventual oc/rock fic but. eh. i edited out a scene from the original posting of this fic for personal reasons. it would have been an attempt at a redemption turned corruption/fall from grace fic. but things didn't turn out.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sky was so blue that day.<br/>
<br/>
It wasn't one of those days where the sky was a pale blue then would become more and more vibrant the higher you looked into the sky. It was a bright blue, like the dye that would stain your easter eggs, through and through. The clouds were so white and fluffy that day as well, it looked like a picture.<br/>
<br/>
Too perfect to be real.<br/>
<br/>
“Come here, Rock.”<br/>
<br/>
A small boy looked to where the voice was coming from; his blue eyes wide with surprise as he slid off of his bed, causing his yellow sheets to slide off along with with him, and scurried off to the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
There a woman with brown hair that obscured her face stood. Once Rock was right in front of her, his head lilting back to look up at her, the woman sank to her knees.<br/>
<br/>
He felt her hands cup his face, squishing his chubby cheeks a bit, before pushing his dirty blonde locks out of his face.<br/>
<br/>
“Your hair is getting pretty long, we should get it cut soon.” She smiled, running her fingers through the boy's hair. “Looks like it's getting darker too. I wonder if it'll get as dark as your daddy's soon.”<br/>
<br/>
Rock grinned a big toothy grin, reaching out his arms as high as he could go before she sweeped him upwards while making a loud “woosh” noise.<br/>
<br/>
“You're such a big boy now, soon Mommy won't be able to carry you anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
His little arms wrapped tightly around her neck at the thought of not being able to be carried anymore. She let out a laugh at that; her laugh sounding like the flapping of a thousand butterfly wings.<br/>
<br/>
The woman twirled, her hand cradling the back of his head and her arm hooking under his bum just in case he might let go. Her movements were slow, so Rock didn't feel sick or dizzy. He just felt comfort. Something he didn't really feel.<br/>
<br/>
The sound of a door opening made the woman stop spinning before pressing a kiss to Rock's forehead. “Looks like Daddy is home,” she said as she rested her forehead against Rock's.<br/>
<br/>
She didn't have eyes.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
Rock jolted himself awake, thought his body wasn't letting himself move. His heart was pounding inside his ribcage, the fact that he couldn't move beyond blinking repeatedly didn't help. His black hair clung to his damp forehead and back of the neck—disgusting, his pillow was probably wet as well.<br/>
<br/>
He would have had someone take care of his wet sheets, but he really was not in a place to demand that his bedspread be changed. He wouldn't be able to demand such things for a very, very long time.<br/>
<br/>
Rock had heard rumours that higher classed criminals were treated better; televisions in their visiting rooms, private eating quarters and they didn't have to work in the prison plant. Part of him had wished that maybe he didn't tell Tawashi and Astro not to worry about him having “dangerous psychic powers” anymore.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
The sun had set, the sky looking like a canvas of oranges, reds, pinks and yellows and the clouds had a hint of lavender. The setting sun had cast long dark shadows onto Phoenix Island, giving everything a tint of orange and red. Sirens blared in the background, the sound of officers muttering and investigating the area had also mixed in with the chaos, or rather the aftermath of the day's rather insane events.<br/>
<br/>
Rock Holmes willingly held his hands out for the officer, a small hiss passing his lips at the feeling of cool metal on his skin. He jumped a bit at the sound of the cuffs around his wrists clicking shut, the man feeling a bit paranoid that his delicate skin would have been pinched. He couldn't even be bothered to sigh in defeat at what had happened, he had closure. Closure about his family, who had turned out to be rather loving and were manipulated into giving him up unlike what he had been told.<br/>
<br/>
Despite all of this, despite being helped by Astro from the Moon Tower and being trapped in the portal forever... <em>Why did he feel so...?</em><br/>
<br/>
“Be careful! That man has powerful psychic powers, he can manipulate you within seconds.” The sound of the old man's voice had ripped Rock from his thoughts, leaving him feeling a bit blurry and fogged up. He froze in his spot, his mouth was running on autopilot and he had no idea what was coming out.<br/>
<br/>
“Don't worry, I...” A small smile crept onto Rock's features, his normally harsh blue eyes softened as he looked up at Tawashi. “...Don't have those powers anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
Tawashi eyed him up for a moment. His harsh eyes flickering over Rock's form, reading every possible movement—no matter how subtle it may be, nothing was going to go past him, he needed to confirm that Rock wasn't lying. He sighed, satisfied with Rock's lack of any hint of him possibly lying.<br/>
<br/>
“Take him away, boys.”<br/>
<br/>
With that, Rock was lead into a car, the officers taking extra precaution to not look him in the eyes... Just in case.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
Maybe then he would have been considered a more dangerous case, rather than a filler villain in a cheap cartoon that was locked up and forgotten about. Not literally of course but...<br/>
<br/>
No, he knew he shouldn't be wishing that he had said something different. This was better, a whole lot better. They probably would have locked him up, have him relive those days at the Institute. Constantly monitored through glass while he was trapped in a tiny little room with no windows where he can't see the sky, his precious photos taken away and being beaten into submission.<br/>
<br/>
His muscles tensed at the memories, he thrashed and stretched out—trying to get away from the dark hands reaching for him and electricity pulsing through every single fibre of his being. His legs felt like claws were sinking into the sinew before pulling and pulling and pulling--<br/>
<br/>
“Damn!”<br/>
<br/>
It was just a cramp from him trying to stretch out, looks like his sleep paralysis was gone.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Focus on the pain, Rock. Focus on it.</em><br/>
<br/>
He couldn't have himself get stuck in a funk today—he had cafeteria duties today. He had a hard enough time in prison for his feminine appearance, he didn't need to be called a crybaby on top of it all.<br/>
<br/>
The sound of a baton rattling against his jail door startled Rock, making him shoot upright in his loamy mattress. His head whipped towards the door, seeing a middle aged woman with narrow eyes staring right at him. Her baton slipped towards two of the bars before shifting it back and forth, still creating an orchestra of noise even while she spoke.<br/>
<br/>
“113003, rise and shine! You're in the cafeteria today, right? Let's get a move on!”<br/>
<br/>
Rock nodded, sliding off of the mattress—and taking his sheets with him a bit—before making his way to the door that was being unlocked. He held his arms out through the slot, hissing at the cool feeling of metal around his wrists.<br/>
<br/>
With that, he followed behind the guard towards the cafeteria.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Heyyyy Rock.”<br/><br/>Rock sucked in a breath at the nasally voice that called out his name. He lilted his head back, eyes closing shut as he tried not to disappear into the void—anywhere would be better than here talking to him. His hand clenched around the ladle, the dull edges cutting into his palm even through the yellow rubber gloves he wore.<br/><br/>“It's ya buddy, Skunk Kusai. ”<br/><br/>Rock squeezed his eyes shut. Okay, now he wanted to disappear into the void. Please take him away from here, Dark Overlords. Make him an empty husk or a lifeless drone that is incapable of comprehending anything. <em>Good lord, please.</em> If the earth suddenly tore itself open with the sound of a demonic chorus telling Rock that his mother did things in Hell, Rock would take the chance to swan dive right the hell in there. Anything was better than listening to Skunk yammer on and trying to get his attention.<br/><br/>“NUMBER 42703! Keep the line moving!” A loud voice bellowed out, the deep voice was loud enough to make Rock feel like his bones were rattling from the echo.<br/><br/>“Awww, Officer! Mister Rock here hasn't given me my peas 'n' carrots... How am I supposed to do my work if I don't get my vitamins”<br/><br/>Rock opened his eyes, his head lolling forward suddenly before shooting a harsh glare at Skunk. A wide grin appeared on his lips as he jammed the utensil into the vegetable tray—making the soft vegetables turn into some mystery substance that no one would want to eat if they saw it—and brought it up to Skunk's lunch tray before throwing the mushy lukewarm vegetables drop onto the aluminium with a disgusting “florp” noise.<br/><br/>Skunk eyed the brown-orange-green goop, then looked up at Rock who was still grinning at him. “Aha, service with a smile. Nice to see that my bud, Rock here is so polite.”<br/><br/>“<em>Enjoy.</em>” The way that Rock had said it through, he might as well have told Skunk to shove a bitter melon up his ass.<br/><br/>“Sheesh, I'm beginning to get the idea that ya don't like me very much, Rocky Boy.”<br/><br/>“KUSAI.”<br/><br/>“Alright, alright already, I'm goin'!”<br/><br/>Rock sighed heavily, his voice hurting a bit from the noise he was making. He really was beginning to reconsider mentioning his powers to the guards, if it meant being mostly in a different security level-slash-block than Skunk.<br/><br/>Skunk looked like his skin would have the texture of a pumice stone and he smelled like borscht and boiled cabbage. The only reason why Rock even knew what that smelled like was because of an associate from Ukraine that demanded that Rock try his mother's recipe. Never again.<br/><br/><br/>The rest of the lunch rush was fairly uneventful, save for the few cracks at Rock's expense. He tried his best not to pay them any mind—well, at least anything beyond a passive-aggressive “Have a Nice Day!” and a smile that fellow ex-conmen would have found overly saccharine.<br/><br/>“Good job today, Holmes.” A familiar voice had said, their voice lilting into a slight laugh. “Even if I heard you had a bit of a hang up with Kusai.”<br/><br/>Rock simply nodded and flashed a smile at the guard, the same one that had escorted him to the cafeteria in the first place.  He took note of the fact that she had referred to him by his last name rather than his number. She gave him a half-smile in response, he could have sworn that he had seen her cheeks flush a bit.<br/><br/><em>Looks like I still got it.</em> He wanted to laugh at that thought, but decided to push those feelings down deep inside himself. Down to the tips of his toes.</p>
<hr/>
<p>In perhaps a more seedy part of Metro City, a portly man waddled into a building. His short legs slowly took him up the stairs which groaned under his weight, not that he paid it any mind. He huffed once he made it to the top of the staircase, his breath causing his white moustache to tickle his slightly damp skin.<br/><br/>Shunsaku Ban was getting too old for this. But he wasn't about to give up anytime soon, not when there were lost pets to be found, cheating husbands—or wives—to be exposed, and family members to be reunited. Sadly, he only got the first one on that list lately. As great it was to see the look of relief when another rich old broad was reunited with her darling Persian cat that was probably fed way better than Shunsaku had been his entire life was, a part of him had an itch that needed to be scratched.<br/><br/>He wanted more adventurous cases, maybe he could pick up a protege. Thoughts of teaming up Astro and his little spunky sister, Uran, crossed the old man's mind. He chuckled at that, both were great kids and they helped taught this ol' geezer that maybe robots weren't so bad after all. But he was sure that Astro had better things to do than tag along on his cases. Maybe Uran's ability to talk to animals would come in handy when it came to finding yet another lost cat.<br/><br/>A small sigh passed through his lips as he finally placed a large hand onto the doorknob, looking up at the door to see that some punk kid had scratched off the letters on his officer door... Again.<br/><br/>“Maybe I should put my excellent tracking skills to the test and find out who this son of a—“ He muttered to himself as he strolled into his office, though his words were cut off by his phone ringing. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the sound. Looks like it was time for this private eye to save the day once again.<br/><br/>“Shunsaku Ban, Private Investigator, here.”<br/><br/>“Ah, Mr. Ban. I'm sorry to bother you, especially since you had helped us so much in the past...” A woman's voice was heard on the other end of the line. Her voice was slightly warbly and shaky, making it a bit hard to understand her. It reminded the old man of an ancient film from the United States made in the 20th century, featuring a princess wishing for the one she loved. Yet it was soft and motherly all at the same time.<br/><br/>He couldn't forget a  voice like that.<br/><br/>“Don't worry about it, Mrs. Makube. What can I do for ya?”<br/><br/>She paused, mumbling something to herself before shuffling something around on the other side. Shunsaku couldn't help but let his mind wander about while he waited for a response.<br/><br/>The woman had come in months ago—looking a little mystified and unsure—as if she was having second thoughts about coming in. He remembered watching her silhouette paced back and forth in front of his office door, he was sure that the floor in front of it would have been scuffed and worn down. She never did come in on her own, he had to open the door and invite her in.<br/><br/>She was still nervous, too nervous to actually sit down in the chair or to go anywhere near the desk where growing piles of papers were scattered about—Uran hadn't been around then to knock them all over again.<br/><br/>The woman asked if he had experience tracking people and how much it would cost to gather as much information on a person as possible—claiming that money was no object, but she wanted a rough estimate. Which was weird, but who was he to judge?<br/><br/>He had reassured her that he was the best of the best at tracking, if he could find a dozen cats named Fluffy and ten dogs named Spot within a week; finding some brat wouldn't be a problem.<br/><br/><em>“His name is Rokuro, and I haven't seen him since he was a toddler.”<br/><br/>“Well, that doesn't give me much to work with, Ma'am.”<br/><br/>“He's my son and he... was different. People from an institution had found out about it and said that they'd help him. I wish that I had never done it... I wish I never gave my baby boy away.”</em><br/><br/>He watched the woman tried to swallow back her sobs; he never knew what to do in these types of situations. Beyond the kind of patronizing telling the woman that everything would be okay and handing her a handkerchief which would usually then be swiped from his hands and used. Though, that was for when Sir Fluffington Jr. III had run away while his owner was tending to her petunias.<br/><br/>Shunsaku decided that the only way to console this woman was to help. He needed a bit of variety in his cases, and what better way to do that than reunite a sobbing mother with her darling baby boy?<br/><br/><em>“I'll do whatever it takes, Miss...?”<br/><br/>“M-Makube. Iriya Makube.”<br/><br/>“Alright, Ms. Makube. I'll do whatever it takes to find your son.”</em><br/><br/>It had turned out that the brat was mob leader, Rock Holmes. No wonder why tracking him was such a pain in his backside, the kid had either changed his name after escaping the Institution or they had changed it for him, probably to keep him alienated from his family and make it easier to brainwash him. He had found nearly all the pieces of the puzzle by himself, but Astro had been the one to find Rock himself and the locket that Rock had wore.<br/><br/>There was also some business about shape shifting aliens, interspatial portals—thankfully that turned out for the better, he had no idea how to break that to the poor woman—phoenixes and plots to take over the world.<br/><br/>He was still trying to figure out how to tell someone's mother that their psychic son summoned a tower from the moon to gain knowledge so he could rule the world. Even if the kid had said that he “was better” now.<br/><br/>“Mr. Ban? Are you there?”<br/><br/>The sound of her voice had ripped the old man from his thoughts.<br/><br/>“Yes, Mrs. Makube. My thoughts drifted somewhere, didja say something?”<br/><br/>“O-oh. I was just wondering... if it was possible for me to meet him?”<br/><br/>“I'm not the person to ask that, I'm afraid. You're better off asking the prison for a form then wait to be accepted, I can't really help ya too much. Sorry, Mrs. Makube.”<br/><br/>“Ah! I see. Thank you very much!”<br/><br/>“No problem at all, have a good day.”<br/><br/></p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>Rock didn't have much time to himself after his shift at the cafeteria, as he was rushed to make himself look more presentable for a visitor. He stood in front of the mirror—which was some acrylic plastic rather than glass—rearranging his hair.<br/><br/>“Oh God.” He muttered to himself, slightly moving his head downwards and looking up at his scalp. Walnut brown hair began to show up in his roots, he prayed that no one else had noticed that his natural hair colour was coming back and if they did, why didn't they tell him?!<br/><br/>How was he supposed to look presentable for God knows who if his roots were coming in?!<br/><br/>He paced in his cell, nearly breaking into a sweat over how his hair had looked. His eyes stung and his fingers twitched as he ran a hand through his dark hair, choking as he noticed more and more brown close to his scalp.<br/><br/>“Why why why why <em>why</em>...” Rock groaned, his knees buckling under him before he fell onto the ground by his cell door. He looked awful. How could anyone look at him right now?<br/><br/>“Holmes are you read—“ The same guard as before called out before peering into the small window on the door. There lied a wailing Rock Holmes, his hands tugging on his hair as he rolled back and forth on his side.</p>
<p>Minutes—possibly an hour later, Rock watched his case worker walk out of the door, escorted by two female guards. He sighed, lolling his head back as he held his wrists out to be cuffed by the guards.<br/><br/>“It's free time for you until dinner hours, Holmes—“<br/><br/>“Could I make a request, Officer?”<br/><br/>“...Depends on what it is.”<br/><br/>“Can I please have some dye for my hair?”<br/><br/>“It's a fourteen day process, if your request gets accepted. But sure.”<br/><br/>Rock wanted to cry again.</p>
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